


To Come Undone

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [30]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Stiles Stilinski's Anchor, Derek Hale is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marking, One Shot, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Sexual Content, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “You’re mine.”Stiles shivered, pulling back a little. He glanced up, searching the man’s face, and Derek almost looked… nervous. Maybe a little scared. “Yours.”“Mine.”Stiles didn’t move. Barely dared breathe. Derek stepped forward and tipped his chin up, eyes flickering blue.“And I’m yours.”“Mine.”“My Stiles.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 37
Kudos: 851





	To Come Undone

Stiles had never been undone by a simple touch before.

Not until he was undone by an intruder in his mind, that is. Stiles hadn’t understood what a total loss of control really was until his own mind had been taken from him. Until he’d watched his friends suffer at his own hands and had only been able to scream in the back of his mind while it happened.

Stiles had never been undone by a simple touch before. Not until Derek touched him on the shoulder one day after a pack meeting and Stiles all but melted into it.

He remembered how the man’s eyes had sparked. How his face had gone through a dozen different expressions.

And then Derek had yanked back like he’d been burned.

Stiles hadn’t returned to the loft for another two weeks. And by the time he did again, he was anxious and twitching. Stiles didn’t even know what he was seeking out exactly. Something, anything. A touch, a whisper, a simple glance. 

Things had been… strained since the Nogitsune.

Scott didn’t speak to him much anymore. Stiles’s father was doing his best but Stiles could see the way he never left his gun out where it could be reached. The man would sometimes stand in the doorway of Stiles’s room and just watch him. When he smiled, it was quiet and sad.

The pack wasn’t the same. But could that really be expected of them?

So Stiles turned up at Derek’s loft that night desperate for something. He just wasn’t sure what.

Derek was the only one who didn’t treat him with kid gloves.

It was two in the morning but Stiles hadn’t realized that. He plodded into the loft and then found himself slammed against the nearest wall, a pair of claws tipping against his neck as Derek’s eyes blazed bright blue. Stiles went stock-still and his heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, the light faded from Derek’s eyes and he drew back.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing here?”

Stiles didn’t have a good answer for that. He only sunk down to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest, and Derek studied him for a long moment before moving over and sinking down beside him. Stiles shivered as the man wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him in close.

His heart hurt.

“Okay,” Derek said. “Okay, Stiles.”

He hadn’t even said a word.

Stiles had never been undone by a simple touch before. But it kept happening after that. He found himself showing up at Derek’s loft more and more. The man offered out careful touches that no one else would. Fingers that danced over the back of his neck, a firm hand on his shoulder when Stiles started to shake.

The first time Stiles slept at the man’s loft, crashing on the couch and later wandering into the kitchen to find Derek making coffee and not saying a word, he thought he felt a little part of him unwind.

And it was nice. Or something.

The first time Derek climbed through his window and settled into his bed, Stiles felt even more of himself falling apart.

He thought it was in a good way. Maybe he could be put back together a little differently.

They didn’t really talk about it. But if Stiles was being honest, he thought they didn’t talk about it in the best way possible. Derek’s fingers began to trail down his arm. Sometimes, Stiles would return the touches. He was smiling a little more and his dad was smiling hesitantly back.

But then sometimes, Stiles’s mind wasn’t completely his. He was pretty sure that’s when he sought out Derek the most.

It was raining the night Stiles couldn’t stay curled up in his bed anymore.

He thought he called Derek before heading to the loft, but he couldn’t remember. He might have just shown up. Either way, Stiles ended up standing shivering in the large open room as Derek carefully peeled off his soaked clothes.

When the man’s fingers brushed over his bare shoulder, Stiles whimpered.

He didn’t mean to, he didn’t think. But Derek still paused, repeating the motion, and Stiles nearly melted into it. A small noise built up at the back of his throat. Derek’s fingers drifted to cup the back of his neck and gently, the man squeezed.

Stiles sighed.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, adding a bit more pressure. The man guided him toward the couch and Stiles sunk down slowly, avoiding the man’s eyes. Until gentle fingers touched underneath his chin and tipped his head upward, at least. “Stiles, you know you can talk to me.”

“I know big guy,” Stiles said. Derek’s face softened.

“You… like it. When I touch you.”

Stiles’s smile slipped. His face turned warm and he didn’t answer for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Because that wasn’t a bad thing, was it? Stiles… he felt grounded underneath the chaste touches. And he thought that one day if he’d ever seek out more, he might finally find himself anchored.

“It’s okay,” Derek said softly. Stiles blinked at him and the man gazed at nothing for a moment before pushing himself back up. He moved out of sight and then came back into the room with a mug of hot chocolate.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Derek rolled his eyes.

“You called ahead.”

“I couldn’t remember if I had.”

“I know,” Derek said. “You asked me to tell you.”

“I’m not crazy, Derek.”

“I know.”

“I’m not broken either.”

The man looked a little pained and he nodded. “I know.”

Derek left the room again and then came back once more, this time with a bundle of clothes. He pulled the sweatshirt over Stiles’s head and then turned his face away as Stiles changed into the man’s too large sweats. When Derek sunk down at his side, Stiles all but leaned into his body warmth.

“One day,” Stiles said. “I’m going to be okay again.”

The man turned his face and pressed a gentle kiss against Stiles’s temple. Stubble brushed against his skin and Stiles shivered.

“I know, Stiles.”

And Stiles didn’t think he was lying.

-

See, he had never been undone by a simple touch before. But then as the months stretched on, graduation came and went, and Stiles settled in for the summer, he found himself… calming down, maybe. 

His dad didn’t have to come hold him down through nightmares anymore. Stiles didn’t think he needed how Derek curled a hand around his neck whenever he was nearby, but the man did anyway.

Then things grew beyond that. 

Forehead kisses turned to the soft brushing of lips whenever the rest of the pack was gone. Stiles forced Derek to sit through the entire Star Wars saga and in the darkness of what came after, nervous hands wandered.

There was something about the nights when Stiles was held down after nightmares that always made his chest tighten. Blue eyes that glowed bright, chapped lips that hovered above his own, and then Stiles would always reach out for something to ground him.

The first time he asked Derek to mark him, the man had given him a hungry look. Stiles had moved across the room, run a hand through the man’s hair, and guided his lips to the stretch of his neck. When careful fangs had traced down unmarked skin and Derek’s lips had latched onto the spot above Stiles’s collar bone, he’d nearly fallen apart right there.

Stiles would say it totally didn’t become a thing. But when Stiles was pinned to the mattress, a palm flat on his back keeping him in place and a warm mouth sucking bruises into his skin, Stiles tended to come harder than ever before.

He liked wearing them. He liked the way Derek’s eyes lit up when Stiles took off his shirt and the marks across his skin rippled.

Stiles liked have control over how he came undone.

Some nights, wandering hands just wandered. Stiles laid in the darkness with Derek’s fingers tracing over the scars across his back and although he wasn’t a werewolf, he could always sense Derek’s displeasure. With a soft sigh, Stiles rolled over and buried his face in the man’s neck.

That always made him growl.

“I’m okay, Derek.”

“I know.”

“They don’t hurt me anymore.”

The man’s grip around his waist tightened. Stiles turned his face to press a soft kiss underneath the man’s jaw and Derek’s chest rumbled as he growled again. Stiles chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Such a Sourwolf.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“You could make me, you know.”

Derek only tightened his grip; enough to make Stiles squeak. He could feel the man’s lips curve against his skin in a smile and huffed, wiggling a little.

“Furry asshole.”

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

“I can’t. I’m being crushed by your unfair werewolf muscles.”

“I could let go.”

“Don’t you dare.”

The man huffed a laugh, breaths warm against his skin. Idle fingers traced along Stiles’s back again and he shivered slightly, face still tucked into Derek’s neck.

Like this, he felt utterly undone. But also more together than ever.

Stiles hadn’t had a nightmare in a while now.

-

There was a darkness around his heart. That’s what Stiles had been told, anyway. There was a darkness around his heart and he could never fully escape it.

He tried his best to do so, though.

Stiles was pretty sure the night he shattered, he’d scared the crap out of Derek. There hadn’t been a reason, he didn’t think. He’d fallen asleep to fuzz on the TV and woke up to Derek holding him against the couch, screams tearing from his throat.

For a moment, Stiles was thrown into the back of his head. The fingernails that curved into Derek’s arms and broke through skin weren’t his own. The cries that continued to fill the loft didn’t belong to him.

He was a shadow. A walking relic of his former self.

_ “Stiles.” _

And like a rubber band stretched too far, he came snapping back into himself. Derek studied him worriedly, but his grip on Stiles’s shoulders loosened a little, and Stiles choked on a sob, curling into himself as he shook his head.

“I can’t, Derek, I  _ can’t—” _

“Can’t what, Stiles?”

“I can’t come undone again.”

The man studied his face. Derek looked a little panicked and a lot confused, but Stiles just shook his head. He couldn’t. One day, he’d said, one day he’d be okay again.

“I need to be okay again, Derek.”

“Hey. Stiles.”

Stiles forced himself to focus on the man and his grey-green eyes. Derek cupped his face, nodding a little. 

“You’re okay.”

“No, Derek, I—”

“You’re not broken, Stiles.”

It hit him like a punch to the gut. Stiles didn’t move for a moment before pushing himself up. He thought maybe he’d just leave; he could probably be halfway out of Beacon Hills before Derek got ahold of his father. Or maybe he’d just go home. Go home and close his door, just like the days after the Nogitsune—

“Stiles,” Derek said, cutting him off. Stiles hadn’t realized he’d been rambling. The man moved across the room and wrapped his arms around Stiles’s shoulders, pulling him into his chest.

Stiles bit back a whimper. One of Derek’s hands cupped the back of his neck. 

“You’re going to be okay again.”

“I’m not now.”

“Not yet,” Derek said softly. “But soon.”

“I’m not… my own, Derek.”

The man’s grip tightened a fraction. Stiles swallowed hard, faintly realizing he was trembling. Maybe that was it. Finally out in words. He wasn’t his own. He wasn’t the same Stiles Stilinski that had existed before the Nogitusne. Before werewolves. Before he was a sixteen-year-old idiot wandering out into the woods.

“I’m undone,” Stiles said softly. Derek sighed.

“No, Stiles.”

“I’m not my own, Sourwolf.”

“You’re mine.”

Stiles shivered, pulling back a little. He glanced up, searching the man’s face, and Derek almost looked… nervous. Maybe a little scared. “Yours.”

“Mine.”

Stiles didn’t move. Barely dared breathe. Derek stepped forward and tipped his chin up, eyes flickering blue. 

“And I’m yours.”

“Mine.”

“My Stiles.”

Stiles closed his eyes, shivering again. “My Sourwolf.”

“Yours.”

Stiles had never been undone by a simple touch before. He’d also never been undone by a simple word. But when Derek pulled him close again, Stiles let himself be guided. Derek hummed, picking him up bridal style and carrying him back toward the couch. Stiles didn’t have a chance to roll his eyes.

One word lingered on his lips.

_ Mine. _

And for a moment, he was a little okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for no other reason other than for some reason, I felt the need. I thought it would be smut but it was... feelings? What are feelings? Of course, I'd love to hear what you all thought. And I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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